Not Was/Season 3 Opening Arc/FLYF Spoiler

Certain dialogue taken directly from the episode and credit goes to Michael Loceff. Song Note: "Never the same" by Supreme Beings of Leisure

"Michael...Michael...Michael...."

The voice softly whispered his name, floating at the fringe of his consciousness.

"Who are you?" he called.

Turning around and around, he tried again, "Who are you?"

"Michael...Michael...come back Michael...," she breathed into his unconscious mind.

"I'm here! I'm here!" he yelled passionately, fearful of losing her voice.

Jerking sharply to the left, the voice was all but forgotten as a lusciously bright full moon filled his immediate periphery. Light from the lunar presence saturated everything around him...he could feel its mystical power pulling at him...trying to tell him something. Deep in his heart he knew this great being was important, very important to his life. But he had no idea why. Before he could even begin to guess, the moon disappeared, replaced by glowing sunlight streaming through a quaint yard encapsulated by a large wooden fence.

Suddenly sensations flowed roughly over him - the cold, damp grass under his feet, the soft morning breeze swirling gaily through the air tempered only by the beginning rays of the warm sun. Looking out across the yard, an image appeared at the far end. Moving steadily towards it, he tried to callout, to ask who was there...but nothing came. He had no voice.

Panicking he increased his pace, running towards the image...desperate in his necessity to reach the being waiting for him. Like the essence of the moon, he subconsciously understood that this image held great significance for him. Closer and closer he moved towards the image, but nothing became clearer. Opening his mouth, he tried to emit a sound, any sound to get the being's attention. But again nothing.

"Don't leave. Please don't leave," he silently begged.

"Oof!" The exclamation exploded out involuntarily as he tripped over an object and landed jarringly on the ground. Rising from his stomach, he turned to glance at what he had tripped over. Startled, he discovered that there was no object at all, but rather a person sprawled out on the ground. A man from looks of things.

Crawling gently towards the person, he reached out cautiously to flip him on to his back. As the body rocked slightly and then settled he looked down to find...

Himself.

***

Afternoon faded into evening as the winter light filtered in through the bedroom window and patio doors, shifting from one color to another. The bright gold of day morphed into the soft hues of pink, blue and purple. Sitting quietly on the ledge of her steps, Nikita contemplated the events of the past day and a half in peaceful silence, ever mindful of the sleeping Michael in her bed.

She thought back to the briefing this morning and her rather bold behavior. Smilingly slightly in amusement, Nikita realized her actions at blatantly questioning Operations about Michael's rescue, in front of the team no less, was a rather ballsy move. A large part of her even reveled in Operations' look of utter disbelief. To say he was shocked, by such a barefaced break in protocol, would be a grave understatement. Actually, it had taken all of Nikita's will power to not laugh out loud at the expression on his face, as well those of the other operatives at the table. Still, it had been an effective tactic and resulted in her desired outcome - Michael's retrieval.

Glancing over at the subject of her thoughts, she watched Michael toss and turn, pursued by demons in sleep even while suffering from amnesia. Suddenly an overwhelming desire to ease his pain fiercely encompassed her. She rose softly, not wanting to disturb him and gently sat on the edge of the bed next to him. Stroking her right hand across his forehead and cheek, Nikita whispered nonsensical words into his ear. With her voice proving to be a balm to his unconscious thoughts, Michael calmed down almost immediately. His breathing returned to normal and she could see the tension melt out of his face. Having eased his anxieties for the moment, she slipped off the bed and returned to her seat on the floor.

Nikita continued to gaze at Michael, wondering if he truly understood his enormous importance to the organization. She highly doubted that he did. Of all the crimes one could accuse him of an over-inflated ego was not one of them. He was controlling, ruthless, and brilliant, but not egotistical. There was never the opportunity to develop such a trait. Operations and Madeline never let Michael forget for one minute that he was completely expendable, no different from anyone else in Section. In reality however, that was not at all the truth. Contrary to what the two leaders of Section drummed into his psyche, Michael was of the utmost importance to Section and to the organization at large. It was also one of the reasons Center reassigned Nikita to Section One after her six months absence.

Noticing that Michael had finally quieted down in his sleep, Nikita slid off the stair ledge and on to her living room floor. She then walked over to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. Twisting the top off the bottle, she chugged about half the water while wandering over to her patio doors. Sliding them open just a few inches, she allowed the winter air to blow over her flushed body. The street below rang with a deep silence, broken only occasionally by a passing car as the people disappeared inside their warm, comforting homes for the night. A shiver coursed through Nikita's body, sending a chill down her spine and filling her with a bone, chilling cold caused not by the weather, but by the penetrating silence. A silence that served to remind her just how alone she truly was in this world she had created for herself.

Feeling the melancholia wash over her in overwhelming waves, Nikita quickly shut the doors as if hoping to close the ones on her sadness as well. "Michael, what have we gotten ourselves into?" she wondered out loud, giving voice to her growing fears.

As she laid back in her white lounge chair, Nikita wondered if she had made the right choice all those months ago when she had agreed to work for The Center. At the time, the decision had seemed so simple even if the job was not, but now...now there seemed to be so much more at stake and she wondered how long she would be able to maintain this charade. In the last of her evaporating naivety, Nikita had agreed to work with Center, believing that she could make a difference in the organization at large and for Michael and herself. But over the last few months she had begun to realize that there might never be a 'Michael and Nikita.' If the events over the past few months had not reminded her of the fact, then learning about his blood cover mission certainly did.

A family - a wife and child - that was why Michael had told her he was "conflicted." Whether his relationship with them was real or not, the fact still remained that the man she loved was married to another woman, and was raising a child with her as well. The situation was a bitter pill to swallow and Nikita still found herself struggling to come to terms with the idea of his mission. At this point, however, her emotions were inconsequential because she had a job to do and that job was to watch over Michael. His survival was essential, not only because of the Vacek mission, but for the future of Center as well. While none of her superiors at The Center had ever explicitly stated their plans for Michael, she understood, with a clarity far beyond her years, that the top brass had great plans for the man resting in her bed.

In the end though, Nikita did not need a mission to justify her need to protect Michael. She would have done that no matter what the circumstances. She loved him. It was as simple and as complex as all that.

***

He threw the ball with a gentleness that only a father could perfect while playing ball with his young son. As the ball sailed through the air, he watched with a slight degree of apprehension as Adam lifted his small glove into the air. The plastic ball landed with a quiet thud in the boy's glove and a giant smile broke out across his innocent face. Eagerly he looked towards his father, holding out the prize in his glove for his father to see. He walked towards his son; a tremendous smile of pride graced his face at the child's accomplishment. Reaching the young boy, he bent down so there were nose to nose and praised, "Nice catch Adam."

Grinning at his father, his proud smile practically pasted onto his face, the young boy childishly replied, "I love you Daddy."

At his son's words something tore inside his heart, and before his son could see his tears, he quickly scooped Adam into his arms for a hug. Content to simply hold his child in his arms, he did not notice his son's drifting attention until Adam spoke.

"Daddy...."

"Yes Adam...."

"Whose is that pretty lady with you?" he asked, his voice filled with intrigue.

Shifting the boy in his arms so he could see Adam's face, he questioned, "What?"

"Over there," Adam answered, pointing out at the distance behind his father.

Slowly turning around, he discovered that Adam was correct. Off in the distance he stood under the moonlight, swaying to the music floating through the air. Embraced in his arms was a beautiful, lithe woman with long, blonde hair, dancing with him in perfect sync to the music. Moving closer, he tried to make out the woman's features, but the man - his other self - kept turning her so that he could never see her face clearly.

"Who is she, Daddy?"

Startled by the question, he suddenly became aware of his son's weight in his arms. Glancing down at the child's questioning face, he replied, "I don't know."

Craning his little neck around to catch a better look at her, Adam then asked, "Can we go see her?"

He did not answer his son, but instead began automatically walking towards this woman who would not show her face. His son chattered on as they moved closer, but he heard none of this. All he could focus on was the hypnotizing woman dancing in the arms of the other man - in his arms, only it was not him. He could feel her aura grow stronger as he drifted closer - seducing him, enveloping him in an incredible warmth.

Then suddenly she was in his arms and he was looking back at where he had just been with his son. Only now the other man held his son, the man who was him, but not. Quickly, he snapped his focus back to the woman, desperate to see her face, yet in the instant her image became clear, her body turned to dust and he was left with an unbearable sense of anguish.

***

Startled by the events in his dream, Michael's eyes popped open, his breath still slightly erratic and uncontrolled. Inhaling a cleansing breath of air, he slowly sat up in the bed and attempted to orient himself to his surroundings. Glancing to his right side, he was greeted with a warm smile from Nikita, who had returned to the stair ledge prior to his waking up. A sharp look of desperation filled his eyes as Michael searched her face for some sort of reassurance. After several moments he found satisfaction in her eyes, and he released the breath he had unconsciously been holding.

Understanding that he was still disoriented, Nikita whispered a simple, "Hi."

Even in his current state of amnesia, Michael's gaze held an intensity unlike Nikita had ever seen in anyone else. He seemed to focus only on her, reaching deep into her soul. Lost in the emotions brewing within the hazy green depth of his eyes, she almost missed his question.

"How long did I sleep?" he asked in a husky, sleep-induced voice.

"Not long. Couple of hours."

Her information received no response. Michael seemed to have focused his attention inward, a glassy look crossing over his face. Just as she was about to ask if he was all right, he responded.

"I had strange dreams," he commented hesitantly, his voice almost making the statement a question.

Hopeful that maybe the dreams were a step towards regaining his memory, she eagerly inquired, "Do you remember anything?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head as Nikita rose from the floor and seated herself at the edge of the bed. His next question threw her slightly off-guard.

"Maybe we should contact my family. They must be worried."

For a moment, Nikita's heart sank. His family - Elena and Adam. Knowing the little information she did about his wife and child, she concluded that they were probably worried, considering Michael was to have returned from his 'business' trip yesterday. However, as always, Section had probably feed her another well-developed excuse about why he was delayed once again from returning home on time.

Lost in her own thoughts for the moment, she briefly forgot Michael's question until his worried expression caught her attention again. Sighing internally, she hedgingly answered, "You don't have a family. Not in the ordinary sense of the word. The organization we work for...is...so covert that none of us have any real identities. We're all dead as far as the outside world's concerned."

Her last words were said in a harsh tone, influenced by her growing level of frustration - frustration at her inability to help Michael with his memory, at her need to lie to him. Fortunately for Nikita, Michael seemed to sense none of this, too preoccupied with discovering his lost memories and life.

Trying again to learn more from the woman who had become his only link in the world over the last few hours, he asked, "Do I have friends?"

"I don't know," she answered hesitantly, never looking directly at Michael, somewhat embarrassed by her lack of knowledge about the man she loved, "I don't really know that much about you."

The memory-impaired Michael was intrigued by her response. From the moment she had spoken to him in the laboratory yesterday morning, during his rescue, he had felt an overwhelming connection to her. Without a word being spoken, he had intuitively known they were lovers, at one time or another. So he now found it very curious that she did not even know whether or not he had friends.

"How long have you known me?" he wondered.

Looking back at him over her shoulder, she quietly stated, "Over three years. You trained me."

Still curious, he inquired, "Why don't you know me better?"

"It's hard to explain," she snapped out.

He was silent for a few moments, disturbed by the information she had just told him. How could he have known her for three years, made love with her, but never even shared so much as the names of his friends with her? What kind of person was he that could not allow her into his life even slightly? What kind of life did he lead?

Not really meaning for her to know his thoughts, Michael unconsciously said out loud, "I must be a real jerk."

This comment earned a quick burst of laughter from Nikita and a smile that radiated across her face, taking Michael's breath away. Once she had recovered from his unexpected observation, she shyly replied, "Actually, I'm very fond of you."

"I'm happy to hear that."

For a moment the two of them merely smiled and stared at one another, content to enjoy each other's company. Then Michael's thoughts drifted unwittingly to the events at the laboratory and the man he killed.

"Yesterday, when I killed this man, I've done that before, haven't I?"

His sorrowful question sobered Nikita instantly and she reached over to brush a lock of hair off his face, attempting to offer him a modicum of comfort when he then asked an even more painful question, "What will happen if my memory doesn't return?"

Stating the harsh truth, she replied, "They'll kill you."

"Wh...why don't they just let me go?" he asked frantically, suddenly very fearful of this life he had no recollection of at all.

Capturing his fearful gaze with her own distraught one, Nikita answered honestly and from experience, "Because they don't let anybody go."

"I can't accept that," Michael cried out firmly.

Understanding his reaction better than he ever could because she had believed the same thing at the beginning of her recruitment, she reached for his hand in sympathy. As expected, her description of life in Section shocked him and in his agitation, she feared he would behave recklessly. She could not let that happen. Too much was at stake for both of them.

"But you have to," she replied gently.

Shaking his head in disagreement, Michael vehemently countered, "I may not know who I was, but I know who I am... I can feel it. I'll never be treated like...like a caged animal."

In that moment Nikita's heart broke and she internally wept for this passionate, untarnished Michael who still believed that freedom was a reality in their world. She imagined this was the man he had once been, long before his involvement in L'heure Sanguine and the harsh reality of Section. She desperately wanted to take him in her arms and promise him that everything would be all right. That he would never have to be caged within this dark, deceptive world, but she could not do that. The best she could do was delay the inevitable until his memory returned. In consolation, she lifted her hand and caressed the side of his face, offering what little comfort she could.

***

While Michael freshened up in the bathroom, Nikita headed downstairs to set up the medical equipment she had ciphered earlier from Med Lab when he was being examined. Crossing to the coat closet, she grabbed the black, nylon courier bag she had deposited there this morning when they returned home. Bag in hand, she moved over to the coffee table and laid the syringe, vile, and antiseptic pads out on the table. She also placed an old leather belt along side the medical equipment, a crude but effective method for tying off his arm. Done with her set up, Nikita glanced back at the loft and saw that Michael had not emerged from the bathroom yet.

Feeling restless amidst the pounding silence filling her apartment, she grabbed the remote and clicked on the CD player. As the jazzy, trip hop music reverberated through the apartment Nikita sat on the floor at the edge of the coffee table, swaying in time to the music. Completely caught up in the hypnotic base of the piece, she did not hear Michael's silent approach and was startled when he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Michael!" she exclaimed, looking back at him over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't mean to startle you."

Straining her neck to look up at him, she replied, "It's okay. Sit down. I need to draw some blood from you."

Following her instructions, he seated himself in the white lounge chair and rolled up his right sleeve as Nikita grabbed the belt off the table. Wrapping the belt around his upper arm, she pulled the strap tightly through the buckle and then glanced at Michael to make sure he was okay. With a small nod, he signaled that he was fine and so she secured the belt around his arm and knelt back down. Quickly she opened a one of the antiseptic pad packets and swiped the inside of his elbow clean. While picking up the syringe and inserting the vile into the instrument, Michael interrupted her work with a question.

"Why do you need to take my blood?"

Concentrating on finding a vein, she replied, "Well, if there are any drugs left in your systems, maybe they'll be able to tell us something."

Michael nodded in understanding and said nothing more, leaving Nikita to finish her work. He watched as she gently tapped his arms, feeling for a vein and then having found one, gently inserted the needle into his arm to withdraw the blood. Between the sensations of her touch sending warmth humming through his body and the sultry scent of her perfume filling his nose, Michael was almost completely unaware of the blood being taken from his arm. He closed his eyes and allowed the overwhelming sensations to rollover him, finding an inner peace for the first time in hours. Caught up in the moment, he did not realize, until he heard the rattle of paper, that Nikita was done and had begun to clean up.

Glancing down at the top of her head, he commented, "You're a good friend Nikita."

At his words her activity halted for a moment and a sharp, indefinable look shot across her face. Sensing that his words disturbed her, Michael asked, "Did I say something wrong?"

"No...it's...," she stuttered, trying to hard to explain a complex situation without revealing too much, "it's just hard to get used to."

"What?"

"You," she stated frankly.

Again, her words piqued Michael's curiosity about their relationship and he inquired, "Did I ever tell you things like that?"

"No," she replied quietly, hurrying to finish with her clean up.

Vile in hand, Nikita rose from the floor, intending to get dressed and head into Section in order to give Walter the blood to analyze. Having no desire to lose these last moments of intimacy, Michael stood up as well, all the while trying quickly to grasp at some way to prevent her from ending their contact. Hearing the music playing in the background he finally responded to her last comment, saying, "I can't believe it," and then asking, "Did we ever dance?"

Distracted by her plans for the blood, she half-heartedly shook her head and answered, "Only under orders."

Suddenly Michael was directly in front of her, forcing her to look at him, an expression of longing on his face. Understanding the questioning look in his eyes, Nikita tensed, fearful that if she permitted herself even this much direct contact with Michael, she would end up allowing more than just a simple dance to happen.

"Oh Michael, I don't think so," she answered pleadingly.

"Please," he begged.

She held up the blood in reply, but this did not deter Michael. He merely grabbed the vile from her hand and placed it on the table, saying, "Just a little bit."

Tired of fighting him, Nikita gave her consent. "Okay."

"Thank you."

Soft hands my drug
you taste like home to me
echoing reverberations
I am now remembering
your kiss is a dream
elations extreme

Michael could feel the tension humming through Nikita's body as he took her in his arms. At first contact she stiffened almost imperceptibly, but as his hands ran across her back in a soothing caress, she allowed herself to relax. Bliss immediately coursed through his body at her acquiescence, their bodies molding perfectly to one another. Sensation upon sensation suddenly overcame him and all else was lost. His world narrowed to the woman in his arms and the intense pleasure of holding her so close.

One step closer
I am one step closer to heaven
and now I'm never the same
never the same girl twice

Oh no, now I'm never the same
never the same girl twice
not the same girl you loved last night

While unable to forget about the reality of their situation completely, the pleasure of dancing in Michael's arms, just for the sake of being together, was not lost on Nikita. Her own senses were swamped with the essence of the man in her arms - his scent, his touch. The feelings he invoked were almost too much for her to absorb, and she was torn between the desire to escape or to push for more. Contact between them had been almost non-existent since the Armel mission and she did not know if a mere dance together would be enough to satisfy the craving that that mission had unleashed.

mysterious chemistry
someone's cooking in the kitchen
elixir of the pearl
a luscious berry swirl
I'm losing some sleep
no company I'd rather keep

Seeking even greater contact, Michael moved his lips across her cheek, desiring to feel the taste of her lips on his, craving to recall at least that memory if no other. As his mouth reached hers, she suddenly pulled back, jarring him back to reality at the loss of her heat.

"Please don't," she whispered in a shaky voice.

Perplexed by her reaction, Michael asked, "Why not?"

"Because this is not who you are," she quickly spit out, desperate to hold onto the small amount of control she had left. Before she could explain further, a cell phone rang and thankful for the interruption, Nikita jumped out of Michael's arms to grab the phone.

Snatching it off the kitchen counter, she returned to Michael and handed it to him, saying, "It's yours."

Thrown off-balance by the interruption and the intrusion of reality, he timidly questioned, "What do I say?"

"Just agree," she replied reassuringly.

Taking the phone from Nikita, he flipped it open and said, "Yeah," then, "uh-huh...," allowing the other person to do most of the talking.

When he was done with the phone call, Michael closed the phone, returning it to Nikita as he informed her, "They want me to come in."

"Well, we've got work to do."

***

Michael's gut clenched with every step closer he took towards the perch. He could see the man Nikita told him was called Operations looming above him through the glass wall of the perch. Despite the numerous reassurances she had given him before leaving her apartment, Michael tremendously doubted he would be able to pull off this charade. The man he was a mere two days ago appeared to have complete control, while he currently felt like he had none. He was practically powerless and he knew it. The key, Nikita explained during her abbreviated briefing after the call from Birkhoff, was to give the appearance of control. She would handle the details.

Passing through the edge of Comm. and under the jutting front wall of the perch, Michael quickly reviewed the information Nikita had drilled into him while getting dressed. He knew he was a level five field operative and in charge of the tactical command component of the organization. Learning the facts regarding his position had been rather uncomplicated. While she did not go into great detail, Nikita had tried to summarize the most important details he would need to know for this meeting. The situation seemed to become complicated when she tried to describe his personality inside the organization. She had used words like 'controlled' and 'impassive.' He still was not sure what kind of man he was, but he understood the impression that he had to portray to everyone else.

At the top of the stairs, he schooled his feature, praying that he had accurately captured the 'blank stare,' Nikita had referred to earlier. He then entered the perch and inquired, "You wanted to see me?"

Operations quickly turned at hearing Michael's voice. Wasting no time, he went directly to the point. "We're converging on Perez. But we have a couple of options. I'd like your input."

"Of course."

Nodding his head at Michael's response, Operations moved away from the ledge he had been sitting on and exited on the opposite side of the room. Michael followed suit, keeping a few paces behind as he pursued the head of Section through a confusing pathway of corridors and catwalks until they arrived in another room. Quickly recalling Nikita's overview, he remembered that this room was called 'Systems' where they often held follow-up briefings.

A young man was seated at a computer monitor, rapidly typing in information and then scanning the screen in front of him. The young man in question, Birkhoff, Michael assumed, copied Operations and dispensed with the trivialities.

"We don't have confirmation but there's a good chance Perez is hiding out in a private club in Luckenwalde, Germany."

"How good?" Operations questioned.

"Point seven-five," Birkhoff answered, continuing, "The problem is if he isn't there and we go in, we lose our advantage."

Trying to follow Nikita's advice of asking simple, detail-oriented questions, Michael inquired, "What's our advantage?"

"The deal. They'll know we're on to the deal," Operations snapped, irritated with such a trainee-level question from Michael.

Ignoring the irregular question, Birkhoff added, "On the other hand if we don't pick-up Perez soon we'll have to rely on our field operatives who are already on the seams of their covers."

"Those systems will be un-trackable if we don't find Perez in the next eighteen hours. We've got to make a choice. Michael?"

Trying to keep the stifling panic from reaching a dangerous level, Michael discreetly inhaled a deep breath and then decided to choose the easiest response to Operations' question. He passed the buck.

So he turned towards Birkhoff and asked, "What do you think we should do?"

Finally tuning into Michael's unusual behavior, Birkhoff fired back, "What do you mean?"

Becoming increasingly frustrated with the level five operative, Operations demanded, "Michael, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he stoically replied, hoping to calm both men and then delayed even longer by commenting, "I'm just saying this is not a...a subjective call. We should let the computer do an analysis."

"An analysis?" Birkhoff asked, completely baffled now, "You mean a Simm?"

"Yeah, a Simm."

"I did."

"And?" Operations interrupted.

"According to the numbers there's a three percent advantage to going in."

"Three percent," Michael repeated, relieved that he could rely on the numbers to make a choice, "Then we go in."

"Okay. Put your team together," Operations ordered and then exited Systems, already moving onto another matter.

***

The constant activity flowing through Comm. helped to disguise Nikita's subtle attempt to observe Michael as he crossed through the areas towards Operations' perch. A similar tension to Michael's tightened in her stomach as she silently begged The Powers That Be that he would make it safely through this first test. She realized that the quick briefing back at her apartment had barely begun to cover the basics, but it was the best she could do on such short notice.

Noting that Michael had entered the perch already, she left her spot at the edge of Comm. and headed over to Walter. The quicker he analyzed the blood, the faster they could save Michael. Nikita did not know how much longer she could help Michael maintain his façade.

Stepping into the work area, Walter glanced back over his shoulder, catching her entrance and shouted out, "I'll be right with you Sugar."

Nikita nervously fidgeted with the vile in hand, waiting for Walter who appeared momentarily and asked, "Okay, what's up?"

"I need you to run something for me," she replied, handing him the vile.

"Yeah, what for?"

"Not sure. Maybe a psychotropic agent of some sort. Something that could interfere with memory," she theorized.

"Whose blood is it?"

Desperate to keep Michael's name out of the situation, she hesitantly questioned, "Does it matter?"

"Well, I gotta know whose baseline to pull so I can get a delta," Walter answered matter-of-factly, not sensing the tension in Nikita.

"It's Mm...Michael's," she stuttered.

Nodding, he turned to head into the depths of his work area, but Nikita grabbed his hand first and silently pleaded with her eyes for him to not reveal anything to Madeline or Operations. Walter flashed her a reassuring look and stepped back to close the gate to Munitions. Feeling slightly relieved for the first time in several days, Nikita walked back into Comm. just in time to see Michael return from Systems.

Slipping back into one of the hallway entrances, she waited nonchalantly for him to pass in front of her. He strolled into the middle of the central space and stopped suddenly, slowly turning around in circles, obviously lost. Nikita started to move towards him, but several operatives crossed in front of her so she pulled back. At the sound of voices behind her, she glanced back and saw a couple of operatives heading toward Comm. Waiting until they passed by her, she moved in behind them and crossed by Michael, gesturing with her head for him to follow her. He tentatively trailed behind her and as he stepped towards the hallway he incorrectly believed led to his office, she tugged on his arm and pulled him into the correct place.

Hurriedly Nikita went to his desk to secure the room, making sure they were able to speak safely first. Disoriented from rapidity of the events around him, Michael wearily leaned against the far wall and wondered out loud, "What are you doing?"

"Securing the room," she paused as she finished typing in the code, "Okay. Now we can talk. What did Operations say?" she inquired, turning her full attention to him.

Fidgeting nervously agitated by the stress of maintaining this charade, he did not respond for several moments, until he declared, "I can't do this Nikita. They're going to find out. I...I don't know what I'm doing."

Keeping a calm and even voice, she reassured him, saying, "Just do what I tell you."

"But for how much longer?" he demanded.

"Walter's going to know something when he analyzes the blood."

Still not convinced, he questioned, "And if it's not the blood? ...I can't go through with this."

Unable to remain still any longer, Michael jerked away from the ledge and began pacing around the room. He was desperate to escape, to make Nikita understand that he could no longer keep up this mask. Frustration, anger and fear threatened to boil over as he simultaneously longed to escape Section as well as regain his memories so he would no longer have to pretend at being himself.

Sympathizing with his frustration over the situation, Nikita tried once again to reassure him. "Yes you can."

Snapping his body around so he faced her directly, he angrily retorted, "No I can't. I've gotta get out of here."

Anxious over Michael's persistence in his need to escape, Nikita dishearteningly replied, "You'll never make it. They'll find you." 'I should know,' she thought.

"How do you know?" he asked, as if in tune with her mind.

Desperate to make him understand, she commented harshly, "Look around."

Focusing his scrutinizing gaze out across Comm., his darting eyes captured the location of several cameras and he realized that Nikita was probably correct, but he did not care. He wanted out and nothing would change his mind.

"Well, you've told me they were going to kill me anyway. I've got nothing to lose," he stated, moving away from the window and back across the room.

At his words, Nikita's heart faltered in its beating and her breath suddenly rushed out of her lungs all at once. 'No,' she thought, 'I can't let that happen. I can't lose you now Michael. We may not have a chance at a future, but if I let you try to escape, then I know we won't for sure.'

"I do," she finally whispered.

Those two words and the tremendous sorrow in them stopped Michael immediately. He turned to face the woman in front of him, the one working selflessly to keep him alive. In response to his moment of hesitation, she rose from her position against the desk, only a few inches between them now. He could feel her everywhere in that moment - her breath caressing his face, her radiant warmth enveloping him, her shimmering blue eyes mesmerizing him. The sensations were too much again, more intense than when he had held her in his arms this morning while they danced.

Suddenly heedless of her previous protests, Michael wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled Nikita flush against his body. Before even a word of disapproval could escape her lips, he pressed his mouth to hers in a kiss of desperation, need, and love. He knew instinctively that he loved this woman in his arms and that she loved him. Kissing her was a desire he could no longer deny. His tongue seductively slid across her moist lips until he felt her resistance melt away. As she opened her mouth slightly, Michael slipped his tongue inside, deepening the kiss further. Sweeping across the recesses of her lush mouth, indescribable pleasure soared through him as his desire mounted. Desperate for greater contact, he tightened his right arm around her waist and lifted his left hand to her head, threading his fingers through her fine, blonde hair.

Completely enraptured from the moment his lips touched hers, no thoughts of protest invaded Nikita's mind at all. Instead, his kiss unleashed the craving she had been trying so to hard to control. Bringing both her hands to his head, she forced him even closer while their mouths and tongues advanced and withdrew, teasing each other in mutual pleasure. Her heightened senses absorbed not only the sweetness of their kiss, but Michael's earthy scent and the erotic caress of his warm hand on her back.

Just as the kiss was about to escalate into something more, a beep sounded in the background, followed by a voice.

"Mission is loading Michael," the male operative informed them.

Pulling away almost instantaneously from one another, Nikita stepped back and disengaged the security measures as the voice questioned, "Michael?"

"Okay," Nikita whispered as instructions.

Absorbing the expression in her eyes, which pleaded with him to answer, he finally replied, "Okay."

Touching his arm briefly, she commented, "Let's just get through this. We'll figure something out."

***

Operations and Madeline stood side-by-side watching the surveillance footage from the Perez mission, specifically Michael's uncharacteristic behavior. After reviewing the tape for a fourth time, Operations turned to Madeline and commented, "It's almost as if he didn't know what to do."

"Or forgot," she interjected, "After Perez gave us the coordinates on the press delivery system deal I pressed him about Michael."

"Why?"

"Walter found traces of some curious substances at the site of Michael's detainment," she replied.

"What sort?"

"Limbic suppressors."

"Memory?" Operations questioned pointedly, starting to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

"It's possible," she commented, adding, "It would explain the recent behavioral patter you've been noticing."

"Michael's mind has been tampered with. How did that escape us?" he demanded.

Pointing out the obvious, Madeline replied, "He had some help."

Operations gave her a piercing glare, as he finally understood the entire picture regarding what had occurred since Michael's rescue from Perez's laboratory. Frustrated at his and Madeline's lapse in observation and angered at being deceived, he began pacing around her office, taking a moment to think. When he stopped several beats later, he turned back towards Madeline and spit out one word, "Nikita."

Amused by the irritation in his voice at Nikita's involvement, Madeline responded with one of her infamous enigmatic smiles and said, "Yes, it would seem so. When she found him in Perez's lab and he couldn't remember anything, she most likely acted on instinct."

"And decided to protect him?"

"Yes."

A trite smile crossing his face, Operations commented, "Well that certainly makes for a change. Nikita protecting Michael."

"Yes," Madeline agreed, "But not a surprise."

"No. No, I suppose it isn't."

After a brief moment of silence, Madeline inquired, "What would you like to do?"

Hesitating, Operations did not answer her question immediately as he found this one more difficult to handle. He knew that on some level part of the reason Nikita and Michael were able to deceive them was because both he and Madeline had been too caught up in their petty contest over the valentine operative Russell Burke. Admittedly, he had been jealous over the younger man and his reception of Madeline's personal attention. Looking back however, Operations realized that she had most likely been playing him as well as Burke. She was too manipulative and intelligent not to have known how he was going to react. Nonetheless, he had no plans to admit the truth to Madeline and giving her an even great psychological advantage over him.

That still left him with the question of Nikita and Michael. They could confront Nikita on the issue, but Operations was rather intrigued by this role reversal with the trainee protecting the trainer. Allowing the deception to remain in tact would provide them with an even better understanding of both operatives and their relationship. Decided on a course of action then, Operations replied, "Let them believe their deception was successful. I want to see how this plays out for their relationship. Besides, with the Vacek mission heating up, we can't afford to lose Michael right now."

"Agreed."

Before anything further could be said, the intercom system emitted a double beep as a female voice questioned, "Madeline?"

"Yes Antonia?"

"Russell Burke is ready to see you," Madeline's assistant answered.

"Thank you. Send him in."

Turning towards Operations, Madeline focused her intense gaze on him and almost too innocently inquired, "I thought you were sending him to Uzbekistan?"

He answered, "I changed my mind. He's still single source in some areas." His own knowing gaze telling Madeline that he was not completely fooled by her actions.

Smiling slightly, she commented, "Good for him."

Before any more could be said between the two leaders, the door to Madeline's office opened and Russell Burke stood in the doorway. She turned towards the younger operative while Operations continued to watch her, attempting to determine whether or not she really had any feeling for the other man. Allowing another pleasant smile to grace her face, Madeline instructed, "Russell...please, come in."

Giving a curt nod to Madeline, signaling that their discussion was finished, Operation shot a quick glare at Russell, who had moved from the doorway to stand in front of Madeline's desk and then strode out of the room. As the door closed behind him, Operations once again heard snippets of laughter ring out from the office.

***

Striding down the hallways at a brisker pace than normal, Nikita hurried from Munitions to Med Lab in an effort to get Walter's antidote into Michael's I.V. as soon as possible. A few minutes later she walked into the medical bay and observed that the only other person in the room with Michael was a nurse. As she approached the nurse by his bed, Nikita asked, "Could you give us a minute?"

Once the nurse exited the area, Nikita glanced down at a sleeping Michael and enjoyed the rare opportunity of observing him in sleep for a few minutes. For the first time ever since she had met him, Michael had a breath-taking look of peace on his countenance. No nightmare contorted his features in pain. His breathing remained calm and regulated. A small smile even seemed to hover at the very edge of his mouth.

In response, a tender smile graced Nikita's face as she stroked her hand lovingly across his cheek, enjoying the ability to touch him freely as well. At the brush of her hand though, something connected within Michael's consciousness and he awakened almost immediately - as if he instinctively knew that Nikita was standing there.

Looking up into her soft eyes, he asked, "How did we do?"

Leaving her hand on his arm for a moment, she responded, "Pretty great. ...How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess."

"Good."

Reassured by his answer, Nikita stepped back slightly and began preparing the vile of antidote for injection into Michael's I.V. bag. Slipping the needle into the vile, she filled the syringe completely and then released a small amount of the liquid before injecting it into the I.V. bag, carefully checking for air bubbles.

Watching while she worked, Michael cautiously inquired, "And they still don't know?"

"No," she answered, " But they will if we don't do something. Soon."

"Is it gonna work?"

"I don't know," she replied as she carefully injected the antidote into the bag.

"Nikita?"

Distracted by making sure she administered the antidote correctly, Nikita responded to Michael with a half-hearted, "Yeah...."

"Nikita," Michael repeated, this time with a greater sense of urgency in his voice that finally grabbed her attention.

Shifting her gaze down to him, she was startled to see a sheen of tears in his eyes. Concerned that he might be in pain, Nikita placed a hand on his cheek again and asked worriedly, "Michael what is it?"

"I love you."

"Mi...Michael," she stuttered.

"No. Don't. I just wanted you to know," he said, adding, "I haven't ever told you before, have I?"

Nikita did not say anything, but there was no need. Her eyes told him everything he wanted to know. He could see the pain at never having heard those words before today, her joy at knowing the truth about how he did feel and an emotion that seemed to resemble fear, but she shuddered it so quickly that he could not be certain. In the ensuing silence Michael began to wonder if he had a made a severe mistake in admitting his feeling. He had not meant to cause her pain, but rather he had felt that at least once, in this evidently difficult relationship of theirs, she deserved to hear him tell her he loved her. Was he wrong? However, in the end his worries were unfounded. In a spontaneous gesture of love and appreciation, Nikita leaned down and tenderly kissed his forehead. When she pulled back, she smiled warmly down at him and squeezed his hand in reassurance.

"Get some rest," she commented softly, "I'll be back later."

Closing his eyes, he gently whispered, "Stay until I fall asleep?"

"Of course."

She remained by his side until he slept once again, his thoughts filled with the image of the blue-eyed, blonde woman who had served as his guardian angel over the last several days.

***

Outside the window of Michael's office, Comm. was a flurry of daily activity and at the head of the chaos stood Birkhoff ordering his staff around like the demanding, but respectful leader he had come to be. A sea of black-clad operatives unceasingly crossed and re-crossed through the center of Section, some stopping to exchange information, other picking up their equipment from Walter before heading out on a mission. Above it all Operations stood in his glass tower, keeping his ever-watchful eye on every operative's movement. Nikita, however, was oblivious to the swirl of motion outside the walls around her.

After leaving Michael in Med Lab, she immediately parked herself in his office and threw herself into work. Unaware of the passage of time, she began with a detailed report of the mission to capture Perez in Germany. Using the gift of a written debrief versus a single one, she attempted to cover Michael's behavior to the best of her abilities without reveling too much - about Michael's amnesia or her increased skills as an operative since working with Center. Once she finished the debrief Nikita tore through several profiles, including a few waiting for Michael on his desk. She would have filed the DVD's of all of Madeline's interrogations if it would have kept her mind off the scene in Med Lab.

She did not want to think about it. She could not afford to think about it...about what Michael had said. Too much was still at stake, for both of them.

"He told you he loves you," her head reminded her tauntingly.

"So what!" she silently shouted back, "It doesn't mean anything."

"Oh, no?" it questioned skeptically.

"No. Absolutely not," she muttered out loud, fed-up with the situation.

Quickly glancing at her watch for the time, she realized almost nine hours had passed since she had injected Michael with the antidote. Figuring he would awake at any moment, she shutdown her laptop, pushed away from his desk where she had been working, and headed out the door. Carefully to keep her eyes down and not attract any attention, she made her way down the corridor leading away from Comm. to Med Lab.

Stepping inside the large open bay, Nikita found herself all alone, no medical staff in sight and Michael still sleeping peacefully. She walked over to a large cabinet a couple feet from the end of his bed and hopped up to sit and wait, crossing her legs Yoga-style. As she slouched over, she placed her head in her hands and mindlessly stared down at the white plastic cabinet top she sat on, determined to avoid every and all thoughts regarding Michael and his behavior the last three days. Just as she was beginning to achieve success in detaching herself, the man in question awoke.

Sensing a change in the environment, Nikita glanced up to see Michael awake, his eyes darting around the room trying to assess the situation. Gently slipping off the cabinet top, she made her way to the edge of his bed and lightly placed her hand on top of his left forearm, a gesture meant to comfort and calm all at once. Absorbing the warmth of her touch Michael stared up at Nikita, the look in his eyes somewhat cloudy and confused.

"How are you feeling?" she whispered.

"I've been shot," he commented, but the words sounded more like a question.

"Yeah," she answered, "You were shot on a mission yesterday in Lukenwald, Germany."

Disoriented from the painkillers, the antidote and the returning pain of his wound, Michael did not comprehend everything she was telling him and countered, "No. We were in Amsterdam. At a dance club. You were trapped in the room. I broke positioned, then...."

Suddenly he paused in his speaking and a flash of recognition shot across his face, but before Nikita could be certain of anything, he changed the subject.

"Where's Operations? I need to debrief."

Uncertain of what he did or did not remember, Nikita decided to take the easiest route and quickly summarized the events of the last two days for him. In a matter-of-fact voice, she stated, "Something happened Michael...um...you were grabbed in Amsterdam and taken to Perez. He did something to your memory. You haven't been able to remember who you are for the last three days."

He only asked one question - the most important one. "Do they know?"

"No. I protected you," her answer as to the point as his question.

"Thank you."

Sensing that the situation was back to status quo, Nikita instinctively removed her hand from his arm, no longer comfortable in touching Michael in such an open display of affection. Before leaving, she took a moment to assess him with her eyes one more time, resigned, yet satisfied that he appeared to be himself again, complete with his trademark 'blank stare.' Feeling at a complete loss with the return of 'Section' Michael, she stepped back from the bed and with one last look, Nikita exited Med Lab, leaving him to his own thoughts and questions regarding the last several days.

When he was finally alone, Michael briefly dropped his mask of indifference, his eyes closing for a millisecond as he attempted to control the overflow of thoughts and emotions rioting through his mind. Hating himself for deceiving Nikita once again, he knew it was for the best that she believed he did not remember the last three days. This was not the time for a confrontation over what occurred between them at her apartment, in his office and here in Med Lab. With the Vacek mission still in play, he did not have the freedom to contemplate any sort of relationship with Nikita other than mentor/trainer and partners in the field. He only wished that someday he would have the right to more.

*** (Epilogue) Nikita stood on her balcony, French doors thrown wide open as a sharp winter wind coursed through her thin cashmere sweater and behind her into the apartment. Lost in deep contemplation, she was oblivious to the cold and her body's shivering reaction. Goosebumps covered her arms and legs, yet she was only conscious of the deep warmth spreading out from her core to the rest of her body. "Michael loves me," she thought, finally allowing herself to believe in the words he had uttered so passionately earlier in the day, now that she was safely shuttered away in her apartment hidden by the approaching night.

Following her second conversation with him in Med Lab, Nikita had returned home, realizing she could not put off confronting the events of the last few days. So here she stood out in the cold and dusky night in effort to do just that, but the only thing she could focus on was the three heartfelt words Michael had uttered, "I love you."

At first she had been furious with him for revealing his feelings. It did not matter that he had no recollection of what their lives and relationship was really like. His three words had destroyed the convenient lies she had created for herself in order to survive the life they were forced to live. She told herself numerous times that whatever their relationship might be it was one based on lust, passion, or temptation, but never love. However, his revelation shattered those delusions and only the truth remained. Michael loved her and God help them both she thought because she loved him in return, from the depths of her soul.

Why they had found each other amongst such impossible odds Nikita had no earthly clue. If anything, past history should have taught them both that this relationship - in any form - could never work. But so far neither one of them had learned from history because, in the end, emotions were beyond rationale thought and deep down, she had no real desire to fight destiny. For whatever reason, the fates had brought her and Michael together, connecting them with a deep and abiding love. The question was would their love ever have a real chance as long as they were indentured to Section? She just prayed that they both had the strength to hold on and find out the answer to that question.

###

The biting wind whipped pasted him as he sped through the darkening streets of Paris, the guttural roar of the motorcycle's engine shattering the night silence. Michael instinctively guided the sleek machine through the city, utilizing his well-honed mental powers to focus on multiple tasks at once. While one part of his mind navigated, another part of him contemplated the events since his capture in Amsterdam. Only moments after waking up in Med Lab, his complete memory had come rushing back to him in a flood of pictures and emotions and it required all of his steely control to not betray the truth to Nikita. He knew it was for the best that she believed he could not remember the three missing days and the events that occurred. The vague truths he told her after the Armel mission several weeks ago still held true and nothing that occurred in the last three days did anything to change those facts. As long as Adam and Elena continued to be a presence in his life, Michael could never give Nikita the full commitment she deserved.

Pausing his thoughts for the moment, Michael slowed the motorcycle down as he approached the converted industrial complex at the edge of the city that now housed his apartment. With rote precision, he parked the motorcycle, quickly entered through the front gate of his building, and headed upstairs. Once inside he moved efficiently through the apartment, paying no heed to his surroundings other than to ensure the place's security as he changed from Section attire to a conservative business suit. He then returned to the living area and double-checked to make sure he had his brief case, two presents, and his wedding ring. Satisfied that nothing was out of place, Michael reengaged the apartment's security and returned to the parking lot next to the building. Exchanging the motorcycle for a two door, rust-orange colored sports car, he placed the briefcase and presents in the trunk along side an emergency suitcase and drove off. Within a few minutes, he was cruising steadily down the highway, away from the numerous lights of the city towards the dimmer horizon of the Parisian suburbs.

Blindly staring out at the road ahead of him, Michael's mind inevitably drifted to the scene in Med Lab. With three simple words the truth of his feelings had been laid bare and in return he had discovered the depths of Nikita's love for him as well. Despite the ill timing of his confession, the strength and power of her love had shown brightly in her watery, blue eyes when his words of love penetrated her consciousness. Such a gift was immeasurable to him and while he knew he should never have told her that he loved her, Michael could find no strength to muster up any regret. For him, these last few days had been a time of freedom where he was not burdened by responsibilities, but able to indulge in personal desires. However, the consequences of such freedom could be deadly. He vowed to be even more cautious than before because, at this juncture in their relationship, the admittance of such feelings would only endangered Nikita's life. The Vacek mission was too important to Operations for anything to interfere. As always, Michael would shoulder the role of her protector because life without Nikita was not an option.

Decision made and armor firmly back in place, Michael took a deep breath as he pulled into his driveway, shifting into another one of the many roles he was required to play. The sun had set completely now and the sky was filled with hundreds of glimmering stars, crystal clear in the cold night air. As he stepped out of the car and grabbed his belongs from the truck, he noticed a light click on in the front room of the house. Slowly heading towards the front door, he had not gotten four steps when the door was suddenly thrown open and a little bundle of fervor came flying out at him. Carefully dropping his things on the ground, Michael lifted the creature into his arms for a hug and whispered, "Adam."

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